


The One

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [72]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Dirty Talk, Existing Relationship, F/M, Fingering, Morning Sex, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, manual sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 22:30:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12518012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Tom and Carmen look at the past, and contemplate the future.





	The One

_People tell me it's a sin_  
To know and feel too much within  
I still believe she was my twin  
But I lost the ring  
She was born in spring  
But I was born too late  
_Blame it on a simple twist of fate_  
Bob Dylan, “A Simple Twist of Fate”

* * *

**Morning: Jet Lag**

The Land Rover that pulled up to the kerb outside Tom’s house idled while its driver popped out to help Tom with his bags1. He refused the carefully folded £20 note Tom tried to press into his hand, getting back behind the wheel and driving away when he saw Tom disappear behind the gate.

The air inside was still. It was near silent but for the sounds of the house and its possessions. The refrigerator’s motor in the kitchen just beyond the lounge. A ticking clock in his study. The minute drip of the tap in the guest bathroom.

Tom left his bags and his coat, his shoes and his keys, by the front door. Discarding his sweater as well, he crept upstairs still dressed in the usual faded tee shirt and jeans. He paused in the corridor before opening the door to his own bedroom.

The room was cool, as she’d left a window ajar overnight. Sleeping weather was what she called it, night air that was cold and crisp and therefore made the act of getting into bed, of burrowing under duvets and blankets amidst a pile of pillows, wonderfully cozy. Tom closed the window, then peered at the bed.

Despite having it entirely to herself, Carmen stuck to her side of the bed. Tom only knew this because her hair burst out of the top of the bedclothes, the only part of her that he could see. The intention to make breakfast had been sincere but as soon as he saw her, Tom was overwhelmed by the fatigue that comes with long distance travel as well as the desire to make his homecoming complete by getting into his own bed with his beloved.

Tom ducked into the bathroom, relieving himself then washing his hands his face the back of his neck. He doffed the tee shirt, the jeans, socks and boxers. With a shiver he ran into the bedroom.

Carmen was lying on her side so all he had to do was crawl in behind her. Fit himself around her, fold one arm under his head and pillow for support while draping the other loosely around her middle. But as soon as Tom nosed his way to the nape of her neck before kissing her there, he tightened his grasp into a proper embrace. Before drifting off to sleep, Tom heard a snuffle. A snuffle, followed by his own name.

_“Tom.”_

He nuzzled her, and was so rewarded by a shiver that ran through her body. He thought to himself, _Don’t shave the beard just yet._

“Tom.”

“Mmm?” Keeping his eyes closed, he began to leave soft kisses along her neck and right shoulder.

“Tom.”

“No stockings,” he muttered into her skin. “Hmph.”

“What?” Carmen squirmed, just a little so Tom didn’t lose his grasp upon her.

“No thigh highs,” he said, and then growled. “You always welcome me home wearing some very nice stockings, love.

“I’m not wearing anything at all, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Believe me.” Tom licked behind her ear. “I noticed.” And with that he let his hand drift from the softness of her belly to the heat between her legs.

“What are you doing now?”

“Warming up.” He bit her earlobe.

“This isn’t fair…” muttered Carmen as he parted her thighs. She wasn’t inclined to resist, but grinding into her from behind seemed to her to be excessive.

“What isn’t?”

“Morning sex…” She inhaled quickly when his fingers began to stroke her clit. “When I’m not a… _oooooh_ … not a… _ah!_ … a morning person.”

“Would you rather I waited until lunchtime, Carmen?” He slipped two slick fingers inside her, now using the heel of his palm to softly grind against her clit.

“Nuh-no,” she stuttered.

“And perhaps I’m spoiled but…” Tom’s breath was warm on Carmen’s ear. “I’ve grown accustomed to having you like this. Early. Fresh off the plane, before you have to get ready for work. Step into the shower. Daub on some lipstick, spray perfume on places I dream about when I’m not here, and then step into a tidy little frock before you go, coffee in hand, off to work in the City.”

“Well, I do…” Carmen squeaked when his fingers curled inside her, brushing the G-spot. “Muh-my work…”

“And you work _so hard_ , love.” Tom purred, as he often did when he was enjoying himself. “So many meetings and phone calls and briefs and wireframes, whatever _those_ are.”

“They… they’re…” Carmen scrabbled for him, something to hold onto but her efforts were halfhearted.

“I suppose I _could_ just let you go. Hmm?” Tom pressed into her, harder and closer, rubbing against the cleft of her bare ass. “You don’t _have_ to come now…”

“Oh Tom…”

“Put you on the Tube, with promises of an early supper tonight before I pass out in bed with a book or a script.”

“If you don’t… don’t let me…” Carmen pleaded.

“Though…” Tom clenched his jaw, tried to steady himself with the effort of not coming on her ass or letting his cock slip into her pussy from behind. “Though couldn’t I just… _fuck_ … couldn’t I just stop by the office, prevail upon one of the many assistants to grant me access. Button left her lunch at home, forgetful little minx, and if you’ll just let me take it up to her…”

“And then what?” Carmen asked, with what little breath she had left.

“Bend you over the desk, yank your knickers down before I service you from behind with my tongue. Then again, there is that view I’ve heard about so much, and I would so love to see the City all grey and gloomy below while above I’ve got you on all fours… or would it be the other way around?”

Carmen was dizzy, brought to the brink of simultaneous collapse and climax by the seductiveness of his voice, and the insistence of his touch. Her voice was gone, and all she could feel was him.

Tom’s breaths were shallower and faster as he just barely held onto speech. And then they stopped, Carmen so breathless she could barely moan even as she came apart in his arms. Tom bit her shoulder, hard enough to bruise if not break the skin, as he came, roughly, spilling cum onto his belly and the small of her back.

They were hot and sticky, but were soon cool when the sweat of their bodies evaporated into the chill of the morning air that lingered inside. The covers, having been pushed and kicked down to the foot of the bed, at last fell into a heap on the floor.

Tom was taller and stronger but it still took some effort to move her, and then them, into a more comfortable position. An exhausted embrace where their breaths slowed into the same pace. Carmen blinked up at the ceiling, and thought she could make out the room getting brighter. The sun was coming up, and her day was just beginning.

“So what did you bring me?”

Tom could hear the smile in her voice. “Apart from that orgasm?”

“Yes,” said Carmen primly. “Did you bring me a _real_ present?”

“Brat!” Tom flopped over on top of her.

“So is that a no, then?”

Tom mock growled in reply.

“That’s cool,” Carmen replied. “Do you have any gossip? Did you and the boys get up to no good? Your dad wouldn’t tell me anything when he got back to town.”

Tom’s eyes lit up. “You talked to him?”

“Of course I did. Just a little when he got back from LA.”

“And did he say something?”

“Only that it was a lovely time, it was nice to see Chris again, Cate couldn’t have been nicer, boy do your fans scream super loud, yaddah yaddah yaddah.” Carmen nuzzled his chest.

“Oh that’s not so bad,” said Tom. “As long as he left out the bits about the matching tattooes and getting picked up by the police on the way to strip club in the Valley…”

“Liar,” murmured Carmen.

“You got me there, Button.” Tom kissed her again. “The strip club wasn’t in the Valley, it was in Hollywood.”

* * *

####  **Evening: Plaster**

It was slippery when she touched it.

Carmen took it one way, then another, but no matter what she did it refused to remain in place. Flattening her hand against it, she thought about curling her fingers, fingernails making faint impressions of crescent moons in the flesh, to hold it more firmly. But when Tom interrupted her, she lost her grip and away it went.

“Button?”

Tom came into the kitchen, fresh from an afternoon of paperwork and emails in his study, and sidled up to Carmen as she stood at the counter. The white onion that had been giving her so much trouble wobbled just out of reach. Carmen sighed, retrieved it, and centered it on the cutting board.

“Hey , baby.” Carmen narrowed her eyes, positioned her left hand carefully on top of the vegetable, and began another attempt at slicing the onion.

“Anything I can do to help?” Tom offered.

She smiled up at him for a moment. “There should be some chicken in the fridge. Could you get it for me please?”

Tom was just closing the refrigerator door, a freezer bag of chicken breasts marinating in a dark brine, when he heard Carmen howl. He rushed back to the counter, where he found her hunched over, right hand gripping the left tightly. Just in front of her was half a white onion, pristine but for a splatter of blood.

“Carmen,” said Tom, fiercely. He took her hands in his and assessed the damage — a single long, apparently shallow cut that ran across her fingers. He wrapped her hand in a tea towel, then helped her fold her arm across her chest to elevate it.

“You okay?” Tom whispered.

Carmen’s face looked ashen, but she nodded quickly.

“Come on,” said Tom, flicking off the hob. “I’ll clean you up.”

Upstairs in the bathroom, Carmen whistled when Tom produced a brand new first aid kit from the linen cupboard. “It’s nice to see we’re prepared in case of an emergency.” She leaned in to get a better look at the contents. “How many types of bandages are in there?”

“Did you have a preference, love?” Tom organized a few things on the vanity — cotton gauze, anti-bacterial cream, and four plasters.

“Do you have any with cartoon characters?” She grinned up at him. “Hello Kitty? Captain America?”

“No,” said Tom with a laugh. “Ready?”

“Yes, dear.”

Tom turned the faucets until a stream of lukewarm water poured from the tap. Looking down at Carmen, he held his hand out to her. “Your hands, love.”

She placed her hands in his, cringing just a little when she flexed her fingers. The cuts weren’t bad but she did inhale sharply when Tom eased her left hand under the water, only for a moment, to wash them clean. He slowly massaged her palms, washing the blood off her hands with a little soap.

Tom shut off the water, then wrapped a length of gauze around her left hand. He dried off Carmen’s hands with a towel, then got to work bandaging her fingers. He worked quickly, placing a bead of ointment on each cut before putting on a plaster. Tom lifted her hands to his lips, kissing her fingertips, before giving her a hug. He brushed a few hairs from her face, then studied their reflection in the mirror.

“Shall I finish making dinner?” he asked.

Carmen shrugged. “Do you want to?”

“Not really,” confessed Tom.

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Now?”

Tom held her tighter. “Not just yet.”

Carmen sighed.

“How was your day love?”

“It was okay.”

Tom tutted with concern. “ _Just_ okay?”

“It would have been a good day, except that it started with what I thought was a pretty decent fingering…”

Tom sputtered. “Only decent?”

Carmen ignored him, saying over her shoulder as she walked into their bedroom: “Because it began in the lascivious manner that it did, anything that would follow could only hope to be okay in comparison.”

Tom followed her, sitting at the foot of the bed and watching as she began to change into one of his old jumpers and a pair of soft leggings. “So what you’re saying is it’s _my_ fault your day was just okay?”

“What I’m saying is,” said Carmen with a gleam in her eye, “I think you owe me a private lunch date.” She took her recently discarded bra and slingshot it across the room at Tom.

He dodged the airborne lingerie. “At your office?”

“On my desk,” she said suggestively. “On all fours.”

“Well, I’m sorry to have missed the opportunity to do it today.”

“We’ll set it for next week.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Today wouldn’t have worked, anyway” Carmen admitted. “I had lunch with a couple of students from the alma mater today.” She joined Tom, sitting cross-legged next to him.

“Are they studying abroad?”

“Yeah, at Cambridge, actually,” she said. “They won the scholarship I won when I was in school.”

“The one you won but didn’t take?”

“That’s right.”

“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you had come?” Tom asked quietly.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “All the time.”

“Still?”

“Well, at first.” Carmen began to trace circles on Tom’s knee with her fingertip. “I felt so guilty, turning it down after I got it. I didn’t even know about it until my favorite professor told me to apply.”

“Did she make you feel…?” Tom’s brow creased with concern.

“Oh no no no!” Carmen patted his hand. “She was totally understanding. Disappointed as hell, but she got it.”

“I would have felt so guilty,” said Tom. “Sorry, love.”

“It’s just as well,” Carmen frowned. “It was probably a good thing I stayed home that year.”

“Was it?” When Tom saw her downcast eyes, the forlorn smile on her face, he remembered. “Oh, my Button, of course.” He pulled Carmen into his arms, stroking her hair when she rested her cheek against his shoulder.

“I miss him, Tom.”

“Yeah?”

“So it’s nice that you and your dad have been talking. I’m glad he went to LA with you.”

“So am I.”

“Dad would have liked you. If he hadn’t died that summer. Gotten to meet you.”

“I know he would have, Button.”

“Oh?” Carmen pulled back, just a little, so she could smirk at him. “You know for a fact that my father would have liked you?”

“I”m sure of it,” said Tom, confidently. “I’m a catch!”

“Well, yeah, you’re a catch _now_ ,” retorted Carmen. “But at eighteen? First year of university?”

“Yes!” Tom insisted. “Graduated from Eton with not a few accolades and accomplishments…”

Carmen snorted.

“You laugh, but if it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t have matriculated at Cambridge. Where I would have promptly swept you off your feet.”

“Dude,” said Carmen with mock seriousness. “I have seen the pictures. You were a beanpole. You weren’t going to sweep me off of anything.”

“Fine,” Tom relented. “But I was a model student. A burgeoning actor.”

“Oh, he would have _hated_ that,” said Carmen fiercely. “No immigrant father would want his only child to run off with an actor.”

“Then he and _my_ father would have had that in common,” Tom replied.

“Well, then I guess they could have been friends,” Carmen pointed out.

“In which case how could they object to the two of us getting together?!”

“Tom!” Carmen laughed. “That makes no sense!”

“Yes it does!” Tom smiled at her. “I think you would have loved me. Even then.”

“I know you would have driven me crazy, from what you’ve told me.” She waggled her eyebrows. “What your friends have told me.”

“I’m surprised you love me now, considering all the terrible stories you’ve heard.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m kinda surprised by it, too,” declared Carmen.

“Minx!” Tom tackled her, pinning her to the mattress before peppering her face with kisses. “You are awful.”

Carmen let herself be kissed, an enviable punishment. When Tom took a breath, she looked at him. His face red from laughing so much, eyes bright and mouth grinning madly.

“I’m sorry, though.”

Tom tilted his head. “Sorry for what?”

“We could have known each other for almost twenty years by now. If.” She bit her lip. “If I’d only been braver.”

“You were young, and you thought you were in love,” said Tom sweetly.

“I was stupid.” Carmen ran her thumb over his cheek. “Why did I want to stay in Hyde Park and hold onto something that I foolishly thought was love when…”

“You could have come to Cambridge,” continued Tom. “And had it for real?”

Carmen felt a tear prick her eye. “Now who’s being foolish?”

“It could have happened.”

“You really think so?” Carmen shook her head. “We weren’t ourselves.”

“We weren’t ourselves _yet_.” Tom leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers.

“You wouldn’t have been my first love,” murmured Carmen.

“You wouldn’t have been mine, either,” replied Tom, nuzzling her cheek.

“Okay,” she said.

“So what would you think, then,” asked Tom, pushing himself up so he could look at her face, look in her eyes, find the nerve to say, to ask. “What would you think of being my last?”

“What?”

“Car.” Tom’s breathing quickened, so he stopped himself. He took a deep breath.

“What are you asking me?”

“I…” Tom looked uncertain. “I don’t have to…”

“No. No no no.” Carmen took a deep breath herself, closing her eyes as she did. When she opened them, Tom was examining her face carefully.

“Are you alright?”

Carmen nodded. “Yes.” She brought her hands up, resting them on his chest. She could feel his heart beating wildly under her left hand. She breathed, then breathed again.

“Tom,” she said. “Ask me again.”


End file.
